


magic at the heart of camelot

by delightwrites



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Arthur tries his best, Arthur-centric, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Magic Revealed, Soft Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Uther Pendragon's A+ Parenting (Merlin), arthur learns to accept magic character arc speedrun, but with a twist, i'm having a blast writing this, set around s2 or s3, you can read it either way the point is that Arthur and Merlin love each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:55:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26927722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delightwrites/pseuds/delightwrites
Summary: Arthur isn’t completely blind, you know? He notices the odd things happening around him and connects the dots. Except he connected them all wrong this time.But what does the crown prince of Camelot - the kingdom where magic is outlawed - do, when he comes to the conclusion that he has magic? Who is the only person he can trust? And when his people are threatened and magic is the only way to save them, what choice does he have?Luckily for Arthur, he’s not the only one in Camelot with secrets.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 283





	1. wake up

**Author's Note:**

> so uh, this started as a crackfic idea but then it got serious when i realised i have so many feels about arthur... listen...... he's a good one
> 
> anyways, hope you enjoy!

Arthur really, really doesn’t want to be here.

He’d much rather sneak out to the training grounds and ask the knights to spar with him. Or anyone, really. He’s been practicing and he’s pretty sure he could beat Leon now, Sir Aryn’s son, even if the other boy is about a foot taller than him.

He would even take Morgana as his sparring partner if he could.

Hell, he would even do his homework. Promise.

Anything but this.

“People of Camelot,” Arthur’s father says, addressing the crowd gathered on the courtyard beneath their feet. He isn’t really Arthur’s father these times, he is the King, but Arthur still likes to think the two are the same. Still, the cloak is so heavy on the prince’s shoulders and his clothes are itchy and his legs are buzzing with the need to run away.

“This man who stands in front of you,” the King continues and Arthur narrows his eyes. The _man_ is barely older than him. “was found guilty of the most unforgivable crime in our lands. He used magic.”

There is a beat of silence and Arthur takes in a sharp breath at that last word. Not like he’s scared of magic. He isn’t, no. He is Prince Arthur, he isn’t scared of anything!

(He’s ten years old.)

“For this crime, his punishment can only be one thing: death.” Arthur winces. No, he isn’t scared of death either. (He’s been trained to kill since birth.) But he knows what’s coming. And he doesn’t want to be here. “This magician, who conspired against our kingdom, will be burned at the stake. Let his death be a message to those who would see our downfall!”

The trial’s been held already and the stake built on the courtyard, this speech is just formality. Arthur watches as the sorcerer is dragged to the pyre and tied there and he watches as a guard steps forward with a torch and lights the hay.

The sorcerer holds his head high and stares at Arthur's father. The King snorts in disgust and the boy waiting for his death fixes his gaze on Arthur instead.

The flames lick at his feet and his clothes but he doesn’t wince. He looks at Arthur and in his eyes, he sees something he can’t place.

For a split second Arthur thinks the sorcerer will say something. Tell him something.

But he doesn’t.

The flames reach him and the sorcerer screams.

-

The flames reach the ceiling and Arthur grabs Merlin's jacket to drag his servant outside.

"Ha! Did you see that? We got lucky!" chirps Merlin as they stumble through the thick bushes of the forest.

Arthur wants to say something about Merlin's perceptiveness because really, he’s the only one capable of pointing out something so obvious as the bandits’ lair catching on fire just when they were captured. As if Arthur didn't notice it himself...

He wants to say it but he doesn’t, because something else occurs to him.

 _We got lucky,_ Merlin said. Sure, but what were the odds?

They got _really_ lucky.

"Let's head back home," he says instead.

-

Home isn’t far. Still, the way back to Camelot seems even shorter than usual, time flying by as they approach the city.

Arthur's thoughts keep returning to their so-called luck. A fire starting, just like that? That seems... not likely.

And then there was last week’s hunting trip, and that log that fell down and Arthur thought it was definitely going to hit him. It didn’t.

And there was that soldier, Cendred’s man, when Arthur’s patrol was ambushed a month ago and that crossbow aimed right at him and the arrow flying towards his heart and Arthur could see it _so clearly_. It was coming. It never reached him.

And there was-

“Sire?”

Arthur quickly dismisses that memory.

“Arthur?”

“What?” he grunts at Merlin.

“Well, what do you say?”

“To what?”

“Giving me the night off,” Merlin says like it’s the most obvious thing ever.

“Sorry, I wasn’t listening,” Arthur shakes his head.

“Come on! You always stop listening when I ask for some time off!”

Arthur frowns. He does listen to Merlin complain usually, but mostly because that’s when his servant makes the funniest, most outrageously out-of-line comments and also that’s when he makes _that_ face.

“That’s not true,” he says, shaking his head again. “But I really wasn’t listening this time. I was thinking.”

“You? Thinking?” Merlin pulls a face. (There’s _that_ face.) “That’s new.”

Arthur just glares at him in response.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Luck,” Arthur says simply.

“Oh,” Merlin’s steps slow down. “What do you mean?”

“You said it yourself, Merlin!” Arthur turns back to face him. “We got lucky. Like so many times lately.”

“I guess,” Merlin says with a nonchalant shrug.

“What, you don’t think it’s odd? Not even a little bit?” the prince demands, taking his steps backwards. How can Merlin be so dense? Something is definitely going on, how can he not see it? “A hut caught fire _just_ when we were captured? A log fell down and _just_ didn't hit me last week?”

“Just a coincidence, it’s nothing,” Merlin says with a frown, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“Come on, Merlin!”

“It’s nothing.”

Merlin picks up the speed again and passes by Arthur, pointedly not looking up at him.

If Arthur didn’t know him better, he’d think, for that split second Merlin looks _scared_.

-

He is sinking.

“Arthur.”

A sweet voice, a woman’s, he hears it seep through the waves splashing above his head. A thousand women’s voice at once.

“Arthur.”

It’s Gwen. Nimueh. Hunith. Morgause. Sophia. Morgana.

“Arthur, listen to me.”

It’s his mother.

“This is where your path leads, Arthur,” his mother says in a sad voice. “Both of yours.”

Arthur wants to ask, wants to call out to her. But he’s sinking.

“But you can still find a way.”

_How?_

“You have to see the truth at last, Arthur. You have to wake up.”

_But-_

“You have to wake up...”

-

“You _really_ have to wake up, Sire.”

Merlin pulls the curtains away and light fills Arthur’s bedchamber. The prince squints at the window and at his too-cheerful-for-his-own-good servant.

“Can’t have you lazing around in bed all day, now can we? You have important prince-things to do...” Merlin grimaces. “Whatever those are.”

Arthur struggles and gets himself up into a sitting position.

He remembers having the strangest of dreams. He remembers... a lake. And sinking. And his mother.

He buries his head in his hands, his fingers holding a tight grip on the strands of his hair.

“That’s not how you’re supposed to comb your hair, you know,” Merlin says.

He fishes out Arthur’s comb from his cupboard and walks over to him, running the comb through his hair a couple times. When he’s done, he hums quietly.

“There you go,” he says softly and flashes a small smile at Arthur. The prince looks up at him, smiling down at him despite looking just as sleepy himself as Arthur, and he makes up his mind.

Merlin seems to have returned to his usual chattery self, as if their conversation yesterday didn’t happen at all. And perhaps it’s best this way. Whatever’s going on, with the strange coincidences and now this even stranger dream, perhaps it’s best if Arthur didn’t get Merlin caught up in it.

No, he’ll figure this out on his own.

-

“I want the sorcerer captured,” the King orders his council.

“Sire,” Gaius speaks up hesitantly. “We aren’t yet sure this is the work of a sorcerer.”

“Three people of the Lower Town died and even _you_ couldn’t tell me what kind of sickness killed them.” Arthur’s father sneers at the court physician. The air in the council chamber’s been tense ever since Arthur arrived late to the meeting this morning and the reports of the mysterious deaths just added to his already troubled thoughts and suspicions.

“I still have a few examinations to make,” Gaius admits.

“That still wouldn’t explain why they died at the same time, so far away from each other, when they had no contact before,” Arthur points out quietly. He doesn’t really want to get into this argument, not when he’s trying to figure out this whole coincidence-business.

“It could be a coincidence...”

“There is no such thing as coincidence,” the King’s voice cuts in sternly. Arthur freezes.

“But Sire-”

“It must be magic. You all heard my orders. I want the sorcerer captured.”

-

Arthur rises from the table slowly.

The council meeting ended and his head is throbbing, rushing, buzzing with thoughts he doesn’t want to think about right now.

He wanted to figure it out. Well, there he goes.

_There’s no such thing as coincidence._

He heads for the door. He needs time to think, he needs to talk to-

_You don’t think it’s odd? Not even a little bit?_

But how could he tell this to anyone?

“Arthur, come here for a second,” his father’s order stops his tracks and Arthur turns back.

_You have to see the truth at last, Arthur._

“I want you to personally ensure that this sorcerer won’t cause us any harm.” His father’s hand is on his shoulder.

_It must be magic._

Arthur can’t look him in the eye.

“You are the only one I fully trust in the fight against magic, my son.”

_It must be magic._

_It must be..._

“I won’t fail you,” he promises.

(He lies.)

_You have to wake up, Arthur._

-

Magic.

There’s no other explanation. There is no such thing as coincidence.

It’s magic.

And it’s him.

Arthur swings his sword. Then takes half a step back and slices. His chamber is way too small for proper training but he spins around and lands an imaginary blow at the air in front of him anyway.

It’s him.

It has to be, there’s no one else.

There was that light, that light in the cave where Nimueh left him to die. The light that saved him. There was no one else. Only him.

He slices again, once, twice, three times.

He was born of magic.

It’s true. All of it is true. It has to be.

_Sometimes your father wonders if you are even his son._

He isn’t. He’s the son of magic.

(He doesn’t fear magic. He doesn’t.)

It explains everything. It explains the coincidences that saved him time and time again. It explains his dream. It explains his father’s doubt in him that he never voiced but Arthur could still feel. It explains Merlin’s fear and hesitation at the thought.

And it explains what happened to his mother.

His chamber’s doors are swung open and Merlin sprints into the room, ignoring the habit of knocking as usual and at any other time Arthur would scold him for it, but he’s got too much on his mind now.

“I heard what happened,” his servant says, slightly panting. “A sorcerer... here...”

“My father wants me to find them,” Arthur tells him.

And what if Arthur never wanted this, never asked for it? What if he never wanted to have magic?

“And do you have... any idea... where to look for them?” Merlin asks.

“No,” Arthur lies. The sorcerer left pretty clear traces, so he knows exactly where he’s going to start the search. But he’s made up his mind.

The magic in him has caused him (and everyone around him) nothing but pain. He’s not going to have Merlin caught up in that.

He has to find the sorcerer on his own.

And he has to search for the answers on his own.

-

The sorcerer’s traces are easy to find. Too easy, like he wants to be found. Arthur knows very well he could be walking into a trap.

The house at the end of this lane, it’s got to be it, he thinks. It used to be a witch’s house, until her son was executed and the witch died in her quest for revenge. But not before putting an enchantment on the entire court and almost killing Arthur. A son for a son.

(She had no way to know Arthur never really was Uther’s son.)

A thought cuts through his mind, viciously, and Arthur tries, he really tries to ignore it. He can’t.

“Does my father know?” he whispers into the emptiness of the street, stopping in his tracks. The fire flickers on the torch in his hand but doesn’t give an answer.

Does the King know he has magic? He doesn’t, he can’t. If he did… Arthur doesn’t want to finish that thought. Just like how he doesn’t want to think about what would happen if he ever found out.

Would it matter that Arthur never wanted this, never asked for it, never meant to do any of what he did? It’s still magic and magic is evil.

It killed his mother. (He killed his mother.)

It doesn’t matter that he never wanted to. That he wishes he still had her.

The Collins house, a witch’s house, abandoned but not empty, stands in front of Arthur now, its door hiding darkness and magic and evil, the very same things that brought him to this world, the very same things that stayed hidden from him his whole life.

Arthur takes a breath. He has to do this on his own. Like he has to deal with his magic on his own. Still, some part of him desperately wants to turn back to the castle, to find just one person he could trust and tell them everything. Just one person would be enough who would be by his side now.

But there’s no one else. His hand on his sword’s hilt, his fingers gripping the torch tightly, Arthur steps inside.

-

“It’s not you who I was expecting.” Arthur can’t exactly see the sorcerer’s face in the flickering light, obscured by the hood of his cloak, but he can hear the man’s quiet, almost soft voice. “I have no quarrel with you, Arthur Pendragon.”

“You do if your actions threaten the people of Camelot,” Arthur says simply and draws his sword. Not like he could do much against a sorcerer with a sword. The man standing in front of him seems to be very much aware of this and doesn’t look intimidated at all.

“There is only one person in Camelot I want. I have hoped my actions would lead him to me,” the sorcerer says, as if making a casual conversation.

“Who is it?”

The sorcerer smiles.

“There is a warlock in Camelot.” Arthur’s heart skips a beat. How does he know? Do sorcerers just know these things? “I do not know who he is but he’s a traitor to his people, hiding here in this wretched city and serving your hateful King. I was sent for him and only for him.”

“And,” Arthur starts. He has to remind himself to loosen his grip on the hilt because his knuckles hurt. “If you had him, you’d leave Camelot alone?”

“Once the warlock is dead, I leave and swear never to return.”

It’s clear what he has to do. Funny, he always knew he would die for Camelot but never imagined it would be like this.

“It’s me,” he says.

The sorcerer frowns and steps closer threateningly, the shadows on the walls growing as he moves.

“Do not try to fool me, Arthur Pendragon.”

“I’m not,” Arthur lowers his sword. “I was born of magic.”

(If Arthur hadn’t been so lost in his thoughts on the way here, if he’d made sure he wasn’t followed, if he’d looked back, he would have seen a lanky and very, very suspicious, but all too familiar figure sneak behind him in the dark alleyways of the Lower Town, and once nearly falling over as he stumbled over his own feet when Arthur stopped in front of the witch’s house. If he looked back now, he would see, through the crack of the half-open door, Merlin, who nearly forgot how to breathe when he heard Arthur’s words.

Arthur could see him and know he isn’t alone here, facing his fears and also this evil sorcerer, if he just looked back. But he doesn’t.)

“If it really is you, then I’m glad you came to me by yourself, Arthur Pendragon.” The man’s smile is wide and hollow. “My search will be over sooner than I expected and you…” Arthur’s hand burns and his sword falls out of his grasp. He sees the hilt glow red from the heat as it drops down to the ground. “You will die. Along with your monster of a king and everyone who follows him in this rotten kingdom, as soon as you aren’t here to protect them.”

The thing is, Arthur isn’t afraid to die. But that-

He can’t let that happen. He won’t, as long as he breathes.

One of those _coincidences_ would certainly come in handy now, he thinks as he dodges a fireball the sorcerer throws his way. Magic would have to be able to defeat another magician, right? If he tried-

He never tried before, he never did it deliberately before, but if he could save not only himself, but Camelot too, with it… then isn’t that what he has to do? Isn’t it worth the corruption of his soul, the evil magic would turn him into?

The sorcerer’s next flick of wrist sends Arthur flying into a wall, then down on the ground and he’s pretty sure he just cracked a few of his ribs. His sword is too far away and no one knows he’s here, so there’s no help coming.

There’s no one here, only him.

Arthur struggles to his knees and breathes in, ribs aching, and he looks the sorcerer in the eye. The man’s fist forms another ball of fire and Arthur has no idea how magic is even supposed to work but he breathes in and searches for any magic that could be inside of him and-

The room goes dark as a gust of wind extinguishes all fires, Arthur’s torch and the sorcerer’s magic, and an invisible force throws the man into the wall behind his back.

Steps, the sound of running steps close up to Arthur and someone grabs his arm to drag him to his feet.

“Come on,” the stranger in the dark mutters and Arthur realises he’s no stranger at all.

“Merlin?”

“We have to go, Arthur.”

Merlin stills holds onto the sleeve of Arthur’s jacket as he drags him out of the house and back towards the castle and they run.


	2. the secret-sharer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur takes a leap of faith and a sorcerer is caught

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone i'm back with chapter two and a ton of merthur feels

“What were you doing there, Merlin?” Arthur almost shouts as Merlin closes the door of his bedchamber behind their backs.

“I was following you,” he answers with a shrug and a faked coolness.

“Wh-what?!” Arthur gapes. “Merlin, that man in there was a sorcerer, this is too dangerous for you! What were you thinking?”

“ _ What was I thinking _ ? And what about you, what were  _ you  _ thinking? Clearly, if it’s too dangerous for me, then it’s also too dangerous for you, I mean I’m not the one who tried to face off an evil sorcerer with nothing but a stupid sword!” Merlin can’t seem to stop, his voice slipping higher with both annoyance and panic. “Seriously, Arthur, did you even have a plan-”

“You saw what happened, didn’t you?” Arthur interrupts him, his voice low.

Merlin freezes, the words dying in his throat. He looks up at Arthur and as he nods, the prince can see something in his eyes that he can’t quite place. He saw, of course he did. He can’t pretend it was a coincidence, like all the other times. He has to wake up too.

Arthur thinks about how worried his voice sounded just half a minute ago. How worried he was  _ about Arthur _ . How he followed him here, like he’s followed him everywhere else. Would all of that change after Arthur told him the truth? Would Merlin change?

It’s Merlin, Arthur thinks. He’s perhaps the only one in Camelot who wouldn’t change.

(Arthur prays and hopes he’s right.)

“Merlin,” he starts, bracing himself. “I… you know I trust you more than anyone-”

“Oh,” Merlin breathes and he looks at Arthur in a way he’s never seen him look before. “You know.”

Arthur gulps. So Merlin figured it out. Maybe he’s known it ever since they met Morgause. He waits for Merlin to say it, he waits because he isn’t sure he can say it out loud himself.

Neither of them can.

(You see, it doesn’t feel as real until you say it out loud. And if it’s not real, then… then everything stays the way it was and nothing has to change. Then they don’t have to change who they are.)

The only sound in the dead of the night is their breathing and Arthur can hear how Merlin’s breath shakes at every exhale. He thinks about Will and how Merlin knew he was a sorcerer but still loved him because he was his friend.

Could he still love Arthur? Is Arthur even enough to be called Merlin’s friend?

Arthur realises that what he wants now, perhaps more than anything, is to believe that he is. He prays and hopes that he is.

“I have magic,” he says.

-

“I have magic,” he hears Merlin say at the same time as him, with his voice slightly shaking, and his words seem to stop the flow of time for Arthur.

“Wait,” says Merlin as if he only realised now what Arthur said just a moment ago. “You thought  _ you _ had magic?”

Arthur nods. But does it matter now? He was wrong, it’s not him, it’s not him, it’s not him, it’s-

It’s Merlin.

Merlin, of all people! It makes no sense and yet, it’s all perfectly clear.

How could he be so blind? How could he not see what was right under his nose all this time? How could Merlin hide this for so long, from him, from him, from him-

It’s a wash of relief and regret at the same time.

“It was never me, it was you,” Arthur mutters, his voice coming out strained. Merlin gulps. Just then he looked like he was going to make a joke at Arthur and laugh, but at his words he steps back a little and Arthur realises he looks  _ afraid _ .

It’s too much. Arthur isn’t a sorcerer. Merlin is,  _ and he was afraid to tell Arthur _ . 

It’s too much.

It also means something else.

“It was you all along.”

It was Merlin who saved him, countless times. Who risked his life just by being here, in Camelot. Who risked his life now just by telling him the truth.

“It was me,” Merlin repeats and he nods and Arthur sees the starting of tears in his eyes.

Is this what Arthur had to do, to open his eyes and see? See this fear in Merlin, this fear that's familiar to him now as well?

He hates that he sees it. He hates that he didn’t see it before.

(Merlin was always so brave.)

“How long...” he asks Merlin, though he isn’t really sure how to phrase it. Still, he has so many questions. “I mean since when-”

“I was born with it.”

_ Born with it. _ Arthur nods.

Born with magic, born of magic. Maybe, maybe the two aren’t so different.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks softly. He knows the answer already, though.

“You’d have chopped my head off,” Merlin tries to say jokingly, but it doesn’t quite land.

“Do you really believe I’d do that?”

“You tried to,” sniffles Merlin. “When we first met.”

Arthur huffs, and it’s almost a laugh.  _ When we first met _ , that feels like a lifetime ago.

“Your father,” Merlin starts again, hesitant. “I didn’t want to put you in a position where you’d have to choose between him and-”

“And you?”

Merlin doesn’t know he’s been in a position like that before. (He was poisoned and dying at the time.) He doesn’t know that Arthur chose him.

That he would choose him all over again.

He doesn’t know and Arthur doesn’t know how he could tell him.

He reaches out to take Merlin’s hand and hopes that it’s enough. And maybe, for a start, it is, because Merlin’s eyes meet his and a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

-

Merlin is pacing.

Arthur sits on his bed because Merlin has magic, alright, he’s shocked but he’s… actually, he’s surprised to find that he’s sort of cool with it.

Is that a wrong thing? Arthur isn’t sure.

But it’s Merlin. His servant. His friend. Merlin.

He didn’t change.

(Arthur thinks he doesn’t want him to ever do.)

But he really, really needs a moment to process all this, okay? He may not have the time though. It’s already been a long day and from the looks of it, specifically from the worried frown on Merlin’s face, it seems it’s far from over. Arthur sits on his bed and he’s trying to think and Merlin is pacing. He’s also driving Arthur mad.

“Merlin.”

“Hm?” Merlin glances at him.

“Stop.” Arthur holds a pause for emphasis. “That.”

“What?”

“Pacing,” Arthur says sharply, but then sighs. He would never say it out loud but Merlin’s restlessness isn’t just annoying him, but worrying too. They have both been through a lot, even if you only take the last couple of hours into account. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Merlin says and it’s so obviously a lie Arthur wonders how he failed to notice it before. At his look of unimpressed disbelief, Merlin sighs and finally, finally stops in his steps. He stands right next to Arthur’s bed and the prince takes the opportunity to grab his hand again. Then he yanks his hand and pulls him down on the bed and Merlin yelps before disappearing between the cushions and blankets.

“Hey!” Merlin glares at Arthur and considering that he’s a sorcerer, it would even be kind of intimidating, if his face hadn't gone pink with blush and his hair wasn’t even more of a bird's nest than usual.

Arthur laughs.

“This is what you get for lying to me.”

If possible, Merlin’s face goes even more pink.

“I wanted to tell you.” His voice is genuine and Arthur is sorry, he’s so sorry. (The way he acted, the things he said... When this is all over, he’ll find a way to right his wrongs.)

He isn’t sure how he could say it though.

“At least you stopped pacing,” he says instead, lightly kicking Merlin with his boot.

Merlin rolls his eyes.

“This is serious, Arthur,” he sighs. “I need to find a way to catch that sorcerer.”

“Wait, I thought  _ we  _ needed to.”

“No. You shouldn’t get involved in this.”

“I’m already involved,” Arthur reminds him. “And you don’t get to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do. I’m still the prince, remember?”

“That is exactly why-” Merlin tries to argue but he can’t seem to find the words he’s looking for. He growls in frustration and digs his fingers into his hair. “Look, I’ve done this before and okay, Gaius is usually there to help me, but it’s not like I can’t deal with this on my own, I just need to-”

“I know.”

Merlin stops and stares, Arthur’s statement seemingly throwing him off.

“I know you can deal with it on your own. I mean, out of the two of us, you're the one who’s done this before. And you're the one with magic. But if you are the warlock this guy's looking for, then he’s here to kill you.”

And Arthur won’t let that happen. Not as long as he breathes.

“I’m just saying you don’t have to do it alone. I can help.” He pats the hilt of the sword by his side. “And there’s no point in telling me no, because for one, I’m still the one giving orders here and two, you can’t stop me from sneaking after you like you did just tonight.”

He’s pretty sure that last part isn’t true. Merlin could definitely stop him if he really wanted to but Arthur hopes he doesn’t consider that option.

“I just… don’t want to put you in danger,” Merlin admits quietly.

“Merlin, did you miss the part of the evil sorcerer being here specifically to kill you?” Arthur rolls his eyes.

“He doesn’t know it’s me.”

“You’re right, he doesn’t…” Arthur has an idea. It’s a frankly terrible idea that definitely isn’t going to work and also involves putting his life at stake for a sorcerer, for a servant (for a friend). It’s also the best shot they’ve got. He grins at Merlin. “He thinks it’s me.”

Merlin looks at him and Arthur swears he can see his thought process.

“Oh no, no, no,” Merlin mutters. “We’re not doing this.”

-

They are  _ so _ doing this.

There’s an underground passage, right in the alleyway behind the Collins house, that leads to the Darkling Woods. Not many people know of it, the late Mary Collins witch and the sorcerer they’re trying to catch might be the only ones.

Oh, and Arthur.

(He found it when he was six and a game of hide-and-seek with Morgana escalated.)

He almost doesn’t fit in the tunnel and no matter how many smirks Merlin gives him - and he’s sure he does, even if Arthur can only see his back - it’s still only because of his armour, you know.

“We’re almost there.” Arthur says after half an hour of walk, when their torch’s light flickers in the inflow of air.

“Are you sure he’ll be here?” whispers Merlin back anxiously.

“Where else would he be? He had to  _ go  _ somewhere now that we know who he is and why he’s here. And he has no idea we know about this passage so he must think he’s safe here. I’ll just go and-”

The air coming in from the opening of the tunnel puts out their torch and Arthur curses. He stares into the darkness in front of him but finds that he can’t see Merlin at all.

“Wait,” he hears Merlin whisper. “ _ Bæl on bryne _ .”

There’s a tiny flash of light, Arthur isn’t even sure where it came from, but then the fire lights up at the end of the torch and it keeps crackling merrily, as if nothing happened at all.

So  _ this  _ is magic.

Arthur takes in a sharp breath and tries to ignore how it took every bit of his strength and focus not to jump away, because he can finally make out Merlin’s features and his servant - who  _ just lit a fire by simply thinking about it _ \- is glancing at him with a shy smile on his face.

“That’s, ahm…” Arthur clears his throat awkwardly. “A handy spell.”

Merlin’s smile grows.

“Uhm, Merlin,” Arthur says, fighting back a smile of his own. “I should get going.”

“Yeah,” Merlin nods. Then Arthur steps towards the opening and okay, maybe they should have thought of this earlier, because now they have to spend a good few minutes struggling, pressed against each other between the narrow walls of the tunnel, until they somehow manage to switch places and Arthur stands in the front, ready to step out to the clearing in the forest. (How they managed not to put out the torch again is a miracle on its own.)

“You know what you have to do?” Arthur asks, turning back one last time to face Merlin.

“I hate this plan,” Merlin says with a sigh.

“Come on, it’s going to work! It’s  _ my  _ plan!”

“That’s part of the problem.”

“Oh, shut up Merlin.”

-

It's the second time under the course of a single day and Arthur is dodging fireballs  _ again _ .

That in itself wouldn’t be so surprising, given how he’s the son of the man who literally banned magic and executed hundreds - something from which Arthur’s hands aren’t so clean either. There’s bound to be sorcerers left looking for revenge.

What’s surprising is that this one isn’t even after Arthur, but one of his own kind.

What’s even more surprising is that that person is Merlin.

(And that Arthur is here, pretending to be a sorcerer and dodging fireballs and risking his life, that he’s willing to do all this and more to help protect his only friend. But that shouldn’t really be as much of a surprise, now should it?)

Arthur planned his steps to make a semicircle and now the sorcerer is forced to stand with his back to the tunnel’s opening, not even expecting any attacks from that direction. And just before the next spell could hit Arthur, the man stumbles, pushed forward by an invisible force and Arthur smirks triumphantly.

As Merlin steps out to the clearing, they exchange a smile.

“You!” spits the sorcerer as he spins around and sees Merlin. “You are the warlock!”

He glances at Arthur for a split second but keeps his eyes fixed on the newly appeared threat, while he whispers a spell. Before he could even blink, Arthur is shoved back, hitting a tree.

He expects to slide down to the ground but he doesn’t. He stays upright as if pinned to the tree and, Arthur realises with growing panic, he can’t move.

“Arthur!” Merlin cries out and Arthur looks for him. The torch his servant was holding lies on the ground, he must have dropped it when he was pushed back. Now he stands unmoving, with his back against a tree as well. Arthur struggles against the spell with all his strength but his limbs don’t obey him.

“You thought you could fool me?” The sorcerer gets back on his feet. Arthur can make out that he’s shaking his head disapprovingly, but can’t see much more in the dark. He can’t see Merlin move either. Really, he can’t see Merlin as much as he knows where he is. And that he’s not moving. The spell must be holding him too. “The Pendragon boy will die first, then you, warlock.”

Arthur thinks he might’ve never felt so helpless.

In the fight against magic, in the real fight, he’s useless. It was Merlin who saved him every time, against every magical threat.

The prince grits his teeth. He has to do something, he has to help Merlin somehow.

If he could just break free somehow-

(In this moment, Arthur wishes his earlier fears and worries were true. He’s Arthur Pendragon and he wishes he had magic.)

Merlin is saying something but Arthur doesn’t understand. He tries to listen. (As much as he likes to tell him to shut up at other times, now he tries to listen. He’s going to die soon, so he wants, more than anything, to hear what Merlin says.)

Except, he realises, maybe he isn’t going to die so soon after all. Because what Merlin says is a spell.

And whatever Merlin’s saying, it’s working. It’s breaking the spell that’s holding them. Arthur isn’t entirely sure how Merlin can do that, but he can feel his fingers move, adjusting the grip on the hilt of his sword.

Apart from that, he stays as still as he can, because he thinks he has a pretty good guess on what Merlin’s plan could be.

Just then, the sorcerer notices his spell weakening. But he’s too late.

The dry leaves on the ground catch fire right in front of his feet and the fire follows him as he instinctively backs away. Right towards Arthur.

He doesn’t expect the attack at all and in the next second, he collapses on the ground from the heavy blow to his head from the pommel of Arthur’s sword.

“Hah!” Arthur laughs triumphantly. “Did you see that Merlin?”

But Merlin doesn’t answer.

He stands frozen on the other side of the clearing and it takes Arthur a while to realise it’s not because the spell is still holding him. Merlin  _ could _ move, he just  _ doesn’t _ . He stares into the darkness somewhere behind Arthur’s back.

And then the prince hears it. Steps, the steps of many men and the rustling of the bushes. When he turns back, he sees the light of torches. Men surround them, guards clad in the red and gold colours of Camelot.

“Restrain the sorcerer.” Arthur hears a voice. His father. “The boy too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading the story so far, you can soon expect chapter 3, ily friends


	3. his only friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur makes a choice and nothing will ever be the same again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is it, the final chapter huh?  
> i'm so surprised i actually got to finish it and so so so hyped for you guys to read this chapter

His father’s words echo in his mind and Arthur has to remind himself to hold his sword, as it threatens to fall out of his hand. Two guards are dragging the unconscious sorcerer to his feet while a few others head towards Merlin.

He can’t let them-

“Father,” Arthur clears his throat. “What’s the meaning of this, Merlin didn’t do anything.”

“He did magic,” the King says, disgust written all over his face and there's no room for arguments. He hands Arthur a folded parchment.

“I allowed you in my palace,” he addresses Merlin now, voice seething of cold anger, while Arthur unfolds the parchment. 

It’s a letter.

_Great King, a terrible secret has been hidden from you, and by someone in your own court. Come to the Darkling Woods tonight to see him reveal his true nature. Come and see with your own eyes._

“I gave you a position in the court, by my son’s side. And all along, you have been an enemy of Camelot. All along, you had magic.”

Merlin holds his head up defiantly.

“I was born with it,” he says. (Arthur thinks it's a bad thing, a very very bad thing to say right now but Merlin was never one to carefully consider his words, especially not in front of royalty.) He risks a short glance at Arthur and yes, he is angry but there is something else there too, in that look. Merlin hides it well but if he looked afraid before, he’s now downright _terrified_ and Arthur sees past the facade. Arthur’s mind races to think of something to say, anything that could help, that could persuade the King.

“Father, you can’t...”

How would he even finish that sentence? _You can’t..._ what? Can’t be sure it was sorcery? Can’t arrest everyone just because they have magic? Can’t execute the only friend Arthur has?

He won’t listen. He won’t.

At his father’s orders, the group turns back and heads for the city, the King leading the way. The sorcerer Arthur knocked out came to already and as the guards lead him past the prince, he stops to look at the crumpled paper Arthur’s still holding onto.

“I see you’ve read my letter,” he smiles. “I’ve sent it to your father, hoping to show him who you really are. Things didn’t exactly go according to plan, but no matter. What I came here for will be done, when the warlock is executed along with me.”

Arthur’s heart skips a beat.

He stands, frozen on the clearing and watches the guards lead away the two sorcerers. As one of them pushes Merlin forward, Arthur still sees him turn back over his shoulder and smile at him, as if telling Arthur not to worry, things are going to be alright. Then he’s pushed again and he turns away, looking strictly to the front, towards Camelot.

Arthur only remembers to follow the group when he hears the last of the guards call his name.

-

Camelot isn’t far and even in the dark, Arthur knows these woods like the back of his hand. And yet, when the gates of the Citadel close behind the prince’s back, he can barely remember how he got here.

There’s only one person rushing to greet the King’s escort in the otherwise silent courtyard.

“Did you have any luck finding them, Sire?” Gaius asks, his voice worried and Arthur realises him and Merlin were away all night.

The court physician sighs in visible relief when he sees Arthur but it vanishes when he can’t see his ward by his side, or anywhere in the crowd of guards.

“Where’s Merlin?”

“In the dungeons by now,” the King answers from atop his horse.

Gaius swallows, but only Arthur catches this moment of dread and he realizes something. If he didn’t see it, it wouldn’t ever occur to him, but he’s so sure about it now.

Gaius knows.

“Was he being disrespectful again, Sire?” the physician asks with a tired sigh. “I can assure you, my lord, it won’t happen again. I’ll talk to the boy-”

“Did you know?” the King asks and Arthur knows this voice. There’s no vague answers or doubts when you hear this voice.

“What, Sire?”

“The boy, your apprentice, your ward... He’s a sorcerer.” He spits the word like its venom. “I’ll ask you again, one more time, physician. Did you know?”

“Merlin…” The word is only a whisper but Arthur has known Gaius his whole life and he thinks he’s never seen him look this worried, this terrified.

“He will be executed tomorrow at dusk,” the King announces.

“But Sire…” an uncertain voice speaks from where the knights are waiting for their lord to dismiss them. “He hasn’t had a trial yet.”

Arthur sighs and he’s grateful for Sir Leon, the only one of them sensible _and_ brave enough to speak up. Still, he knows it’s worth little.

“There is no need for a trial, he confessed his crimes.”

Gaius looks like his heart just broke in this very moment. (Arthur wouldn’t admit it, but knows the feeling.)

He watches as his father retreats for his chambers and knows his conversation with Gaius is far from over. It’s not dawn, not yet, and silence hangs over the now almost empty courtyard as the prince musters his courage and slowly walks over to the court physician.

“I’m sorry, Gaius,” he says and then, because it’s true, he adds, “It was my fault.”

And it was.

It was _his_ plan. _His_ plan that got them where they are, that got Merlin caught. 

(And it’s _his_ father who wants to execute Merlin like he’s executed hundreds of other sorcerers since _his_ birth.)

“I tried to talk to my father but-”

“You know,” Gaius says and is looking at him like he’s never seen Arthur before.

“Yeah,” the prince nods awkwardly. “Only found out today. It’s been a weird day… Gaius, I’ll… I’ll figure something out, I’ll talk to my father again, try to convince him.”

“You know your father. He’s not a man who can be convinced.”

“Then I’ll break Merlin out from the dungeons myself,” Arthur says and that earns him a quiet, huffed laugh.

But Arthur means it.

He will right the wrongs he’s done.

-

Arthur stays awake, waiting for the first light of dawn. He's not sure he could sleep tonight.

(Or he doesn't dare to. For the first time since he stopped being a little kid scared to even walk past the still-smoking pyres and stakes on the castle courtyard, Arthur fears if he went to sleep, he would dream of fire. Fire and smoke and screams.

And Merlin.)

A small part of him still hopes that what happened tonight wasn’t real, that it was just another strange dream, hopes that when morning comes, Merlin will barge into his room, unapologetically late and forgetting to knock, and things will go back to the way they always were.

That hope vanishes with the quiet, hesitant knock on his door.

“Guinevere,” Arthur greets the entering girl with a tired smile.

“I brought breakfast,” Gwen says and places the plate on the table. Then she swallows, staring at Arthur for a while and the prince can see that she wants to say something.

“I heard what happened,” she blurts out after long seconds of silence. "Can't you do something?"

"I don't know, Guinevere."

The thing is, Gaius is right. Uther Pendragon is not a man who can be convinced.

"Then you have to figure something out!" Gwen, the otherwise sweet and quiet Gwen sounds almost harsh in her panic.

Arthur might be her last hope, the only one she can think of who could save her friend.

(Arthur, who didn't save her father.)

"I don't know if it’s possible." He wants to believe it is, that there's a way out, he wants to. But he can’t lull her into false hopes.

Or himself.

"You know my father, Guinevere, you know he doesn't relent."

"Arthur," Gwen grabs his hands, holds them and Arthur knows that they shake a little, but he can't bring himself to try to hide it. "It's Merlin."

There might be a way.

Arthur feels the room spin around him at the thought alone. He closes his eyes for a moment and squeezes Gwen’s hands.

It might be the only way.

“I’ll find a way, Guinivere, I promise,” he says. The girl’s smile lights up with relief.

She trusts him.

(Except he lied. He already found a way, the only way.)

Before he lets go of Gwen’s hand, Arthur raises it to kiss it, as if she was a noble lady instead of a maid and he was his father’s son instead of a traitor prince.

-

The guards let Arthur down in the dungeons.

(He’s still their prince. For now.)

He needs to see Merlin. If he is to go through with his plan, he needs to see Merlin first.

His steps echo in the silence as he heads to the cells in the back. The light of torches dance and flicker on the damp walls and Arthur thinks back to the spell Merlin did back in the tunnel, the first magic he’d seen that wasn’t like how Arthur was raised to believe.

Merlin’s sitting at the back of his cell but springs to his feet the moment he sees Arthur.

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t come,” he says half-jokingly.

“Then you really are the idiot I thought you were,” Arthur returns the sentiment and Merlin laughs a little.

There’s silence, almost an everything-like-how-it-was-before silence. But Arthur can’t ignore the bars that stand between the two of them.

“Merlin, I-” he starts. There’s so many things he’d want to say, so many he _has to_ say. “I’m sorry.”

For this and for a lot of other things.

(One day, he’ll find the courage to apologise for them all.)

“All my life I’ve been told magic was evil,” he says now. This isn’t what he planned to say, really. Still, it comes out and there’s no stopping. “Inherently evil, Merlin, and I always believed it. When I thought I had magic, I was scared. I was scared of what it meant for me.

But you… you have magic.” Arthur’s eyes meet Merlin’s through the bars of the cell and the prince looks down in shame, sighing. “I don’t know if I could still believe it.”

“Magic is only as evil or good as the sorcerer who uses it is,” Merlin says, and isn’t it simple? Like a sword, only evil in the hands of an evil man. “But I understand why you were scared.”

“You were too?”

Merlin nods shortly.

“In the beginning, yes. But then I learned to control it. And that it’s not something to be scared of. Magic can be a force for good and it can create beautiful things.”

As he says this, a soft smile sits out on his face and Arthur just has to ask.

“Show me,” he says. “Please.”

Merlin flashes him a more playful smile now and clasps his hands together, whispering something. Arthur can feel the air vibrate around them and then Merlin unfolds his fingers and from his open hand, a butterfly rises. It flaps its blue wings and flies above their heads.

It _is_ beautiful. There’s no other word for it.

(Maybe Arthur will look back later and think about the butterfly that was born of magic. And about Merlin saying _it can create beautiful things_. And maybe he’ll find some peace in that.)

For now, he just watches it disappear into the darkness of the dungeons.

-

“Sire!” A guard calls out to Arthur. “Your father has requested your presence.”

The prince sighs.

“I’ll be on my way.” Then he turns back to Merlin and hastily says, “Thank you.”

For this and for a lot of other things.

(One day, he’ll say thanks for them all.)

Merlin just shrugs.

“And what about now?” Arthur asks quietly, this one last thing. “You aren’t scared?”

“I knew the risks when I came here. And when I decided to stay. But...” Merlin bites his lip. It takes a few seconds for him to finally answer. “I am.”

Arthur nods.

(He’s scared too.)

“Merlin, I won’t let him kill you." He won’t, as long as he breathes. "I have a plan."

"Oh, a new plan of yours?" Merlin asks in an amused voice, purely just to tease him. "Should I be worried?"

Arthur laughs and shakes his head.

-

The echoes of his steps in the hallway. The anxious beating of his heart. The sword by his side. (He doesn’t know if he’ll need it, now or ever again, but it gives a certain sense of safety to Arthur that he really, desperately needs now.)

“I hear you visited the dungeons,” his father says when he enters, not even looking up from his desk.

It’s clear why he was called away then. It doesn’t matter, coming here was the only way anyway.

"Father, we need to talk."

"About your manservant, I suppose," the King sighs tiredly. "I know how… _fond_ you are of him, Arthur, but you know what he did. You know what he _is_."

He’s my friend, Arthur wants to say.

(His only friend.)

"That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about," he says instead, clearing his throat. "Father, Merlin is many things, annoying and disrespectful definitely among them, but he isn't a sorcerer. The only crime he committed last night was that he lied to you."

That finally gets his father's attention enough to look up from his stack of paperwork.

"Lied to me?"

See, Merlin was wrong, Arthur doesn't have a _new_ plan.

The new plan is… the old plan.

"He lied to protect the real sorcerer."

Half a day ago Arthur was terrified to ever have to say this out loud. Just half a minute ago he wasn't sure he would be able to say it after all. He is now. He knows this is what he has to do. Even if nothing will be the same again. "To protect... me."

The quill in his father’s hand freezes and he slowly, slowly stands up. Suddenly the silence left in the wake of Arthur’s words is unbearable.

“No,” Uther Pendragon whispers. “That isn’t true.”

The silence has been broken but it still hangs over Arthur’s head like a sword ready to strike. And his father’s hands, hands that shake from fear and anger, are the ones that hold the sword.

“You know it is. You know how I was born… I never used my magic before, I always hid it. But this time it was the only way to protect Camelot.”

“No… My son would never-”

“You taught me to always do what’s right,” Arthur says and he remembers how Merlin held his head high when he confessed. He swears, whatever happens, he won’t let his voice shake. “Defending our people, with any weapons - even magic - is right. Executing an innocent man isn’t. Let Merlin go, and execute me in his place, but know that I did what I believed and still believe to be my duty as a prince… and as your son.”

“You are _not_ my son.”

The sword strikes, with cold words and seething anger, but Arthur won’t let his voice shake, won’t let tears escape from his eyes.

“No,” he admits quietly. “And you’ve always known that, while you still raised me as your own.”

Whatever happens, this was the only way. The only way to save Merlin and to make his father see, perhaps to bring a change even, the only way to right his wrongs. This is what he had to do.

Whatever happens.

The King sinks down in his chair and Arthur sees, for the first time in his life, an old man.

“You are Ygraine’s son.” The voice of an old man. Tired, broken, crushed by the weight of hate and guilt and living in fear. “I will not have you executed. I could not.”

He did love his mother, then. He did bear the guilt.

Arthur swallows.

He doesn’t know what he could say when his father won’t even look him in the eye.

And probably never will.

He turns to leave, but his father’s words stop him in his steps.

“Arthur… The boy, your servant, he is free.”

“Thank you, Father,” Arthur says and the word isn’t the same on his lips as it was before.

Nothing will ever be the same again.

-

“Arthur?”

Merlin scrambles to his feet when he sees him. Arthur still sees his anxiousness, sees him hesitate even as he takes out the keys of Merlin’s cell. 

“It’s alright,” the prince says quietly as he holds the door open for Merlin. “You’re safe.”

Merlin’s face lights up.

“I knew it,” he breaths in relief and breaks a smile at Arthur. He steps out of his cell, almost hops, and for a split second before he realizes what he’s doing, he raises his arms like he wants to pull Arthur into a hug.

Then he drops them.

“I uh… I knew you’d figure something out. Thank you, Sire,” he says, pretending like he didn’t just want to hug Arthur, like the prince didn’t see the very obvious movement.

Except he did.

And before he can think about what he’s doing, Arthur’s hands wrap around Merlin’s shoulders because _it’s Merlin_ , his servant who followed him everywhere, his friend who was born with magic, Merlin, and he’s safe, he’s safe, he’s safe-

“I told him it was me,” Arthur mutters into Merlin’s scarf, his face in the crook of his neck. Merlin stands frozen from shock but at his words, he carefully raises his hands to Arthur’s back to return the hug. The words are hard to say and Arthur’s voice shakes. “I told him you lied and I... I was the one with magic.”

Merlin takes a sharp breath in and just holds Arthur tighter.

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” he says gently and his voice tells him he truly is.

(He can only imagine what his father’s reaction could have been.)

Arthur raises his head to look at Merlin, but doesn’t pull back from their embrace. He knows tears have escaped his eyes, because nothing will ever be the same again, because his father won’t look him in the eye again.

But Merlin does. And Arthur doesn’t even think to hide his tears.

“Don’t be,” he whispers and he lets his forehead rest against Merlin’s. And even with closed eyes he can tell Merlin is smiling.

(And you know, maybe it’s not true that nothing will ever be the same again. Because everything changed, that is for sure.

Everything, except for them.

Even if Merlin has magic, even if Arthur isn’t his father’s son.

They are still Merlin and Arthur.

And they always will be.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am sorry for the emotional damage i may have caused and for giving the story such a sappy ending. thanks for sticking around and reading it!!
> 
> -
> 
> a big shoutout to my best friend pauli, i never could have finished this without her
> 
> -
> 
> kudos and comments give me life! love you all!  
> find me on tumblr @sky-mage

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> if you enjoyed, please leave kudos or comments and stay tuned for chapters 2 and 3!!
> 
> -
> 
> find me on tumblr @sky-mage


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